


little things

by dharma22



Series: The Wardens [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Kinda, No Angst, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 14:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21737074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dharma22/pseuds/dharma22
Summary: Alistair and his wife Ana bicker over who makes breakfast for the other. With how perfectly Alistair pushes her buttons, the whole ordeal could've quickly gone south. But their boys make sure no such thing happens and the peace is maintained.
Relationships: Alistair & Female Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age), Alistair/Warden (Dragon Age)
Series: The Wardens [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1499606
Kudos: 9





	little things

**Author's Note:**

> Back again and so soon. This was a little tumblr prompt I did a little bit ago and wanted to share here! This is the last thing I work on before jumping back into Solas and Faen. Enjoy!

“You’re infuriating,” Ana said, voice on that tricky edge of raised to a degree of anger but not yet taking the dive into it fully.

“Infuriatingly…good looking? Infuriatingly skilled at both high and low Ferelden clog dancing?” Alistair asked, looking pleased with himself.

She threw up her hands in exasperation, her inability to handle his stubbornness and deflection no longer capable of being bundled up inside her. It had to be expressed physically now. Their back and forth had gone on for a good twenty minutes now and Ana’s will had yet to recede back into submission in the slightest, but there were definite sores on the face of it from where Alistair had been wearing down on it. The irritation had shifted the ‘argument,’ if one could even call it that, from lighthearted banter to genuine annoyance.

The original desire to remain and prepare him breakfast had long since vanished and in its place was the stubborn desire to prepare him breakfast on principle, not any true want. 

Ana had woken early, enlisted the help of their oldest son, Duncan, to help whip up a hearty breakfast for daddy before he left for two months. Business with the Wardens. Their youngest, Bryce, had begged to help, but the boy, only four and already practically the size of a seven-year-old, was too…spirited. Ana had indulged him once in his request to help her bake and while she had her back turned (for a literal second), he’d managed to set fire to a towel and had managed to dump three heaping handfuls of salt into the chocolate cake for Uncle Fergus’s birthday. Needless to say, the cake was ruined and Bryce had bawled his eyes out for days at the revelation that he was the culprit. To clarify, neither Ana nor Alistair ever scolded the boy about the cake, never once suggested he’d made a mistake. It was Duncan, his older brother by a year, sweet and shy Duncan who was never able to tell a lie and already had a strong sense of accountability despite only being five (four at the time), who made the polite but altogether accusatory comment that Bryce had been the one to ruin the cake. And so ended Bryce’s career in the kitchen.

Bryce was meant to snuggle with his father in bed, keep him asleep and if he woke, ask for marvelous stories of the Wardens. Bryce did not do that, at least not to the best of his abilities. The boy could be quite charming when he wasn’t being a little hellion. His parents couldn’t adore him more for it.

Alistair, being so unjustly perceptive, which shocked many for he didn’t have the look of a man who could smell a tricky plot a continent away, caught on to Bryce’s antics quickly and shot out of bed to see what his wife was up to. Ana had cringed when she heard his lumbering footsteps creak on that one floorboard in the hallway and knew her plan to surprise him with breakfast was about to shatter.

When he’d found her, Duncan at her side, he’d looked quite pleased with himself. “What are you doing?” he’d asked, arms crossed across his chest.

“Nothing,” Ana had said, carefully flipping the Orlesian toast he so loved.

“Mummy wanted to make you breakfast,” Duncan said at the same time.

A playful scolding from her husband followed.

“You’re heavily pregnant, you should be resting!” Alistair urged.

“You’re my husband! I wanted to do something nice for you before you left! _You_ should be the one resting!” she’d insisted.

They went back and forth like that for a time, neither one gaining or losing any ground. Their boys looked on with wide eyes, Duncan shifting awkwardly atop the stool he stood on to reach the counter, and poor Bryce not knowing whose side to take. He loved his mother _dearly_ but his daddy was his idol. 

“Let me finish breakfast,” Alistair pleaded, “Go lie down. Bryce, fluff up mummy’s pillows.”

Ana scoffed. “Yes! And then you can spoon-feed me eggs and bathe me!” she huffed, hands on her hips, “If you want a vegetable, there’s some in the garden. But you will not find one in here!” 

Alistair’s features, still soft and boyish through the obvious signs of aging, lost their playful roundness and sank into something sweeter and more caring. He swept her up in his arms, kissed her forehead, rubbed her back. The large swell of her belly made the gesture a tad awkward. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he eased, “You’ve always struggled with pregnancy. This one has been no different. I only meant…”

Ana dissolved in his arms. She knew what he meant. Rarely was she so stubborn, her way of being more like a flowing river than a solid wall. But she was adamant on this, wanting to somehow repay her husband for _everything_ he did. He’d been her source of strength and happiness for the past…Maker, fifteen years. He was the light of her life, besides their children. It was him who gave her her children, her happiness, her stability, her sanity. In every way possible. And she felt as if she hardly ever showed him how thankful she was. 

“I know,” she submitted, tears welling in her eyes. She could blame the emotional reaction on her pregnancy but she was always an emotional mess. “I wanted to do something nice for you, I wanted to show you how much I love you, I wanted to do something special before you…”

She couldn’t say it. After the birth of Duncan, the Wardens had given her some space and all but formally relinquished her from duty. Something about how slaying an archdemon was more than enough service. But that release had not been extended to her husband and the Grey Wardens still made regular demands of him. After Clarell’s death, he had been the one to assume her role. There was understanding among the Wardens that he was a father and husband. He was granted time away fairly routinely. But he was always called back, always taken away when his family needed him most. 

He squeezed her tightly and little Bryce crammed his way between them.

“Mummy, you’re too big, I can’t get in.” he informed her and Ana giggled. Her and her husband separated to allow the child room. 

Duncan still stood on his stool. Ana knew he wouldn’t budge an inch unless he was invited. One would think him raised in a strict home, one devoid of regular and abundant love and affection with the way he was so hesitant to indulge. No matter his hesitance, his parents always involved him in everything and held him extra tight, smothered him tenfold with kisses.

Before Ana could string together the words to invite him over, Alistair was already on it.

“You know whose hugs I miss?” he asked thoughtfully.

“Why…I feel like I’m something too,” Ana played along.

Bryce giggled. “Who!” he squealed.

Alistair hummed affectionately as he pondered what he missed. “His hugs, oh, Maker his hugs! He is so small but he’s got a mabari death grip, I tell you!” he said, much to Bryce’s delight, “He’s about yay high, brassy hair, brown eyes? _Loves_ to jump on the bed when he thinks mummy and daddy aren’t listening. Have you seen him?”

He did all the appropriate motions to indicate his height. Bryce giggled behind his hand and pointed over to Duncan.

Duncan was the perfect blend of his parents, neither one claiming dominance over his features. But in that moment, he favored Ana. His smile was the sweetest around, shy and pleased, and his cheeks were so plump and flushed. 

“Ah! There he is!” Alistair cheered.

“Come join us, my love,” Ana called, smiling brightly at him.

He carefully climbed down from the stool and dashed into the open arms awaiting him. His brother wrapped his small arms around his trunk and squeezed, lifted him off the ground even. Duncan squealed in reserved delight. The bunch fell into giddy laughter and they stood there in the kitchen, basking in the presence and warmth of each other for a time.

When the boys took to seeing who could hold the other up for the longer time, Alistair nestled his face into the place where her shoulder met her neck. The stubble of his face tickled her. 

“I want you to promise me something, Ana.” he whispered, his voice urgent and thick with emotion.

Her hand combed through his soft tawny hair. “Of course,” she assured.

“Don’t have this baby before I get back,” he begged, “Please. I want to be here for you, have you break my hand you squeeze so hard, hold her in my arms while she’s still screaming mad at the world.”

Ana nuzzled against him, her lips twitching into a soft smile. “Her?” she asked.

“Maker, help us if its another boy,” he breathed, chuckling.

“What makes you think a girl will be any less trouble?” Ana questioned.

“Absolutely nothing, but she’ll be bloody cute and irresistible if she’s anything like her mother,” he said, “Not to imply the boys aren’t adorable.”

Ana laughed. “Oh, they are. But a girl gets away with more.” she said, “You want her to get away with more. You’re already soft on her and we don’t even know if she’s a she.”

They remained like that for a time longer, holding each other and chuckling at the sound of their sons cackling like wild animals when they fell over each other. At some point, someone’s stomach grumbled and they parted. 

Together they cooked breakfast, no longer worried who made who what, but instead deciding to work together towards their common goal. It felt like all those years ago, when the world seemed hopeless and bleak. But the world was no longer bleak and hopeless. Their world, their lives were filled with love and color. 

It would always be that way. Together.


End file.
